


The things we do for Love

by ScribbleWillow (Soul_in_the_Starlight)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:18:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul_in_the_Starlight/pseuds/ScribbleWillow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd waited all those years, but that doesn't make it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The things we do for Love

He _really_ should protest.  
  
Even cuffed to the radiator, he isn't powerless. Sure, she's feisty and strong-willed and God, so _completely_ hot in that police outfit. But he is still stronger than her, he can easily push her away. No, he should _not_ be letting it happen.  
  
He should _not_ be allowing her to straddle his lap, her skirt all but disappeared, up around her hips somewhere, her thighs gripping his own as her fingers slowly prise apart the knot in his battered tie.  
  
He _should_ be able to offer some kind of protest, as she slowly unbuttons his tatty shirt, her eyes fixed on his, pink lips pouting in concentration as her red-tipped nails dig the buttons from their holes.  
  
This is _wrong_. Very wrong. He opens his mouth, determined to protest, but finds his words blocked by her determined tongue, and his groin is very much of the opinion that he should capitulate.  
  
The radiator is hard and painful against his back as she presses herself against him, her hair falling around his face as she kisses him hungrily. She pushes the shirt back over his shoulders, hands lingering over the bare skin, then breaks the kiss so that she can ravish the tempting expanse of his throat with her lips and teeth.  
  
But his mouth, now freed to to proclaim his refusal, just utters a deep rumbling growl of arousal instead.  
  
His free hand reaches up, finding the smooth curve of her backside, squeezing it, which prompts a moan of appreciation from her as she continues to feast on his neck. His hand slides round to the front of her pelvis, fingers diving down in between her thighs, where he finds her wet through the thin nylon of her tights, underwear apparently optional. He pushes his fingers against her and she abandons his neck, gasping, head thrown back, pressing herself to his hand.  
  
She sits back on his legs, giving him better access to her, and hurriedly divests herself of the flak jacket and tie, breathing heavily as she fumbles with the buttons on her blouse, her hips urging his fingers to continue their games.  
  
He presses and flicks against the wet nylon, causing her to cry out, and then she's off him, scooting back by his knees, her hands tearing at his trousers, slipping long fingers inside to bring him forth.  
  
Whatever his mind says, his body has betrayed him, and he wonders how it came to this; restrained and helpless, sprawled on the floor with his manhood on display.  
  
She grabs him, holds him steady before dropping her head, taking him in her mouth with a sigh of appreciation. He wonders if he might not just explode in there, her tongue working such wonderous magic on his rigid flesh, and he thrusts his hips involuntarily.  
  
She giggles around him, releasing him with a long slow suck that leaves him feeling bereft of the warmth of her mouth.  
  
But then she raises herself up on her knees, pulling her skirt up, fingers reaching down to her wetness, and rips open her tights, exposing herself. She creeps forward, positioning herself over him, reaching down to guide the tip of him to where she needs it.   
  
There's a tenderness in her eyes as she cups his face, leaning down to kiss him, taking an inch or so more of him inside her, squeezing, clenching, smiling against his lips as she hears his frustrated moan.  
  
And now she lowers herself down slowly, a shuddering gasp escaping her beautiful mouth as she takes him in completely.  
  
She sits for a moment, his length deep within her, and pulls his head forward, clasping it to her chest. She runs her fingers through his hair, and grasps handfuls, gently pulling his head back so that he can properly pay attention to her breasts, his free hand pulling down the satin cups, and he teases the tight pink nipples with his tongue; this encourages her to move faster on him, and she bounces in his lap, her breasts wobbling delightfully in front of his face, his free hand now clasped about her waist to direct the rhythm and pace of her ride.  
  
She reaches behind him now, clutching the cold metal of the radiator to steady herself and she continues her frenzied heaving.  
  
"Look at me!" she commands, and he realises his eyes have been shut. He opens them, and moves his eyes up and away from her jiggling bosom to her face, where he finds tears pooled in her eyes as she impales herself upon him with even more determination, her tightness squeezing his orgasm from him unexpectedly, and she joins him with a sob and a shudder, the tears rolling down her cheeks as she falls against him.  
  
Her arms encircle his neck, and he can feel her trying not to give way to the ragged breaths that tear at her chest, his free hand clutching her tightly to him as she whispers hoarsely.  
  
"Doctor..."  
  
He rubs her back in that universally soothing way. Yes, he should have refused her, but how could he? She's been waiting all those years...  
  
She's more relaxed now, and lifts her head. She wipes the tears carefully from under her eyes, a small shy smile on her lips.   
  
"Thank you." she whispers, and it's followed with a kiss.  
  
He smiles at her when she releases his lips, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. She doesn't notice, lifting herself from him, trails of moisture sliding down her inner thighs.   
  
And then she's gone, abandoning him for the bathroom, and he slumps against the hard metal behind him with a sigh, not even bothering to put himself away. She'll be back in a minute with the key, and he'll be free.  
  
But not from her. Not from her fantasies.   
  
Yes, he really _should_ have protested. He should have made her leave those clothes in the hospital locker room. He should never have agreed to wear them for her, pretending to be the man who made her wait.


End file.
